


civilian

by CapnWinghead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Case Fic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Protective Bucky Barnes, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnWinghead
Summary: Sam and Bucky have been married for eight years. Sam thought he knew everything about his husband.Until SHIELD came to take him away.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 30
Kudos: 177





	civilian

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which Sam never met Steve Rogers and never went with him to capture the Winter Soldier. In this story, Bucky escaped Hydra and made his way to New York where he met Sam.
> 
> This was sort of a random idea I had. I hope you guys like it!

This is not the life Bucky ever saw for himself.

Even before, he never really saw himself in a nice house with a steady job, neighbors that knew him. It wasn’t necessarily that he did want those things or that he didn’t want them; he just never thought he’d have them. Then, it was watching Steve chasing the kind of happily ever after Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever want. After, it was about just trying to stay alive.

If he’d known then what he’d have at the end of all of it—

The bed shifts. Bucky bites down a smile as Sam turns over, blades of sunlight fan across his bare back. Sam leaves the blinds cracked just a bit. Likes to “meet the day”, the little dork, Bucky fondly muses. He smooths out the furrow in Sam’s brow with his fingers, watching as he softly snores. He presses a kiss to Sam’s temple as he climbs out of bed.

Most days, Sam wakes before him. Working as a social worker in the city, Sam didn’t have to go in so early and leave so late, but he liked to. He spends his days helping people. It's just one of the things Bucky loves about him.

This morning, Bucky wakes before Sam. He can’t say why. He wakes tense with a feeling he can’t name; but it feels familiar.

Bucky works construction downtown. It isn’t necessarily a dream job, but he’d certainly done worse. He doesn’t have to be up for another few hours, but this restlessness in his bones isn’t going anywhere. He might as well make himself useful.

Going down the stairs, he straightens the photos on the walls. Pictures of Sam’s family, his siblings, his parents. Pictures of him in the Air Force, at events downtown, his college graduation. There’s one of him at the lake, taken without his knowledge. Sam had wanted a lot more pictures with him, but cameras always made Bucky nervous. Almost like he was leaving a trail he didn’t want anyone to find.

The bottom step creaks; he’ll have to fix that. There’s a juddering noise the boiler makes every few hours and he’ll have to take a look at it soon.

When they’d first looked at this place, Sam had been so excited about having a place of their own that he hadn’t paid much attention to the list of problems it had. The rusted pipes, the water damage in the garage, the storm damage to the siding around back. When the realtor explained all of it, Sam simply smiled. Said he knew it wasn’t perfect, but they could make it theirs. They could make it home.

Plus the owners were willing to take several thousand off the asking price, so they took it.

It’d been a long time since Bucky had a place that was really his. He had to admit, he liked fixing things with his own hands. He liked building the place up, making it nicer, _safer_ , for Sam. And doing things himself meant no questions asked about the panic room in the cellar or the security system he’d purchased under the table. No one poking around to find the armory in the basement or the go bag under the floorboards in their bedroom. Nobody knew about those. Not even Sam.

He cleans up around the house, mows the lawn, washes the dishes, fixes the tear in one of Sam’s sweaters. It’d sat in the laundry room the past three months waiting for Sam to finally “get to it”. Sam had had it for a long time. The more Bucky looks at it, he realizes it used to be his. It smells like Sam.

He works up a sweat before he finally climbs the stairs, tugging off his shirt as he goes. After his shower, he finds Sam awake, lying on his back and murmuring to himself. Upon hearing the door, his eyes find their way to Bucky, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Good morning.”

He raises up on an elbow, the sheets sliding down his chest revealing a tantalizing path along his lower stomach. Grinning, Bucky starts forward, climbing over him in bed. Sam shakes his head with a fond smile, tracing his fingers along Bucky’s face and down over his throat, drawing a shiver.

“You’re up early.”

Nodding, Bucky ducks his head down to kiss Sam, sighing as Sam made it last. He presses a kiss to his throat, feeling Sam shudder as his hand spreads out over Sam’s chest. “Couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs.

Sam gently pushes him back, finding his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“’M fine.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “You’re having nightmares again.” He palms Bucky’s cheek, his thumb tracing over the curve. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“It’s nothing.” He takes Sam’s hand, kissing the inside of his palm, his eyes falling shut. “I’ll be fine.”

When he opens his eyes, he finds Sam watching him worriedly. He kisses his palm again, earning a smile. “Wake me next time, okay? I take care of you,” he says softly, waiting.

“And I take care of you,” Bucky finishes. “Fine, you dork. I’ll wake you next time.” He won’t.

Sam’s eyes light up. “I heard the lawnmower.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky replies, “I can be trusted to mow the damn lawn. I’m not that much of a city boy.”

“I thought you’d never seen grass in your life,” Sam recites, mocking him poorly.

“I have! Just not a lot of it.” He fights a smile. “Besides, I’m gonna have to learn if we’re gonna live here.”

Sam’s smile widens, the fondness in his eyes making something warm turn over in Bucky’s chest. “That’s the plan, right?”

The words give Bucky pause. He didn’t do too well with plans. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs.

Sam shifts beneath him, a wistful look in his eyes. He traces shapes in Bucky’s chest, his voice soft. “I know it’s old fashioned, but I thought it might be nice to have a yard. Some place a kid could run around in.”

The words send a spike of fear through Bucky’s chest. He covers it with a kiss to Sam’s head, closing his eyes. It’s not fear that Sam wants kids. He’d always known that Sam wanted – _wants_ a family. Sam talked about it all the time. How they’d have to go further out to find a place bigger than a shoebox. Bucky had always known Sam had planned for a future.

No, the fear isn’t that Sam wants that. It’s that Bucky can’t give him that; and when Sam realizes that, he’ll leave.

“Buck? You still with me?” Sam asks, laughing softly as he finds his eyes. “I scare you off?

Bucky’s mouth moves on auto pilot. “My name’s on the lease, where could I go?” Sam rolls his eyes, smacking his chest teasingly. “No, you didn’t scare me. It sounds…” _Impossible._ “Nice,” he says softly. He clears his throat, adding, “Now, it’s almost time for work. I should get dressed.”

He steals another kiss and heads for the closet.

When he gets downstairs, he finds Sam in the kitchen.

He slows, just watching the muscles of Sam’s back shift and flex beneath his shirt as he works. Bucky moves in behind him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. He smells of vanilla and flour, dots of it across Sam’s nose and arms. Grinning, Bucky presses a kiss to Sam’s neck.

“How’d I get so lucky finding you?” he whispers. Sam hums in question, adding sugar to the mix. “Good looking and you can cook.”

Sam laughs as he presses another kiss to his neck, his beard scratching at Sam’s skin. “It’s not luck.” Sam folds the batter a few more times before setting the bowl down. Touching Bucky’s cheek, he turns, taking his lips in a kiss. “I chose you. There’s no one else I’d want here with me.”

He kisses him once more, resting his head against Bucky’s for a second. Pulling back, he catches his lip in his teeth, his eyes soft as he gazed at Bucky. “I love you,” Bucky says.

“I know,” Sam says, laughing at the petulant look he gets in return. “I love you, too.” He returns to the batter. “Can you get me oil?”

Bucky nods, heading for the pantry. There’s coconut oil, canola oil, vegetable oil and olive oil and he’s not exactly sure what Sam’s making. “Which one?” he calls out. When there’s no response, “Sam?”

Frowning, he turns back around. “Hey, babe, call me an idiot, but I don’t know what kind you want,” he trails off, heart leapt to his throat.

Sam’s standing in the corner of the kitchen, hands up as a man and woman stand before him, guns drawn. Dressed in black, clearly some form of paramilitary. The guns look standard issue, nothing special. They’re not covering their faces, and that fact alone makes Bucky desperate to put himself between them and Sam right now.

No masks, no anonymity – no reason to believe they’ll leave Sam alive after getting what they want. They can’t; Sam’s seen their faces.

The man raises his gun and Bucky works to temper his rage. There's no place for it here. He has to think smart.

“I don’t know what you guys want here, but there’s no need for guns,” Sam says calmly, ever the pacifist. “We don’t have much, but you can have all of it. My wallet’s on the counter—”

“We don’t want your money,” the woman says. She has short dark hair, her expression never wavering as Bucky makes a makes to move forward. “Not another step, Barnes. I’m a damn good shot.”

“You know her?” Sam asks him.

Bucky shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the intruders. “No, I don’t.” But Bucky had lived several lives in the past. Who knows when their paths could have crossed. “Whatever this is, let Sam go.”

“Buck,” Sam starts as the man shakes his head.

“Orders were to take you both.”

“Orders? What orders?” Sam asks, eyes widening.

“So say you showed up and I was the only one here,” Bucky says. The man simply stares at him. “Please,” he begs.

The woman tenses, her gun trained on Sam before she shifts to Bucky. Her words are terse, “He’s got a job in the city, all the money’s in his name and he’s the only legitimate name on the lease. He isn’t going anywhere.” All spoken to her partner but her eyes never leave a spot in the center of Bucky’s head.

A kill shot.

“Let’s go,” she says, stepping back for him to walk in front.

Bucky nods, thankful for the small mercy. With any luck, Sam will find the go bag beneath the floorboards. If he makes good time, he’ll be in Romania by the next morning. Far from home, but safe. Where nobody could get to him; least of all Bucky’s past finally catching up with him.

Bucky’s eyes catch on the fear and confusion in Sam’s eyes and it keeps him in place. He forces a smile as Sam’s face tightens the vice around his heart. In the eight years Bucky’s known him, he’s always been powerless around him. Ruled by the expression on his face. He wants to fix this, he needs to, but he can’t.

“It’ll be okay. I promise.” He tries to say more, reaching out when the man rips him away. Shoves him forward towards the door with a gruff order.

Bucky forces his eyes ahead, forcing his feet forward. There’s a jostling and Bucky watches the man turn to shove Sam back. “That’s your warning,” he says and Bcky grinds his teeth, forcing himself not to break the guy’s face.

“Don’t care,” Sam bites out, his eyes dark. “You came to our home, guns out, no masks. I’ve seen your faces. I think you’re putting on a show about leaving me here. So, I figure it doesn’t really matter what I do.”

Bucky’s heart beats fast as he turns back. “Sam,” he chokes out, “just trust me. It’ll all be okay.”

“I can’t, can I?” Sam asks hollowly, his eyes on Bucky. “You’re acting like this is normal; like it’s something you expected. They’re calling you Barnes, whoever the hell that is, and they’re treating you like some sort of prisoner. You really think I’m just going to let them have you? What kind of man do you take me for?”

“Sam,” he tries, moving forward and freezing as the woman cocks her gun.

“What kind of husband?” Sam continues, squaring his shoulders as he stares the man down. “You either take me with you, or you leave him here. But I’m not staying behind.”

“Don’t do this,” Bucky pleads, his eyes wet. “Please.”

“And there’s that,” Sam says, rubbing at his brow. “My husband never says ‘please’.”

Bucky’s stomach twists, weak on his feet at the thought of Sam being dragged along with him. He keeps pinching the inside of his wrist like this is just a nightmare he can’t seem to wake from. It happened just like this so many times. This is usually the part where he has to watch Sam die.

For his mistake.

“Hill, this has gone on long enough. Outside. Now.” Bucky opens his eyes to find a tall black man staring down at him sternly, a black eye patch over one eye. “If Mr. Wilson insists on coming, he’s more than welcome. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here. The suburbs always make me feel itchy.”

* * *

**_Before_  
  
** _At the start, and Bucky always thinks of it as the start, he’d been starving.  
  
_ _It took a year of scrapping, saving and pinching whatever money he could get to make the trip from London. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to New York. Some vague memory of a crumbling apartment building, a small girl missing her front two teeth, a scrawny blond boy with a stubborn, fool hardy grin.  
  
_ _He made his way to New York. He’d thought he’d belonged there. When he arrived, he wasn’t so sure anymore.  
  
_ _He’d been down to his last three dollars and contemplating what to do when he heard the shouts and the screeching sounds of tires skidding along the pavement. A cab swerved to avoid a pedestrian and sideswiped a large SUV on the street. Everyone was staring and trying to avoid it. All except for a black man walking down the street, completely swallowed up in something on his phone. Bucky waited, sure he would see the Buick barreling towards him.  
  
_ _He didn’t.  
  
_ _Cursing, Bucky darted forward, pushing himself even as his sore, tired bones begged him to stop. He slammed his shoulder into the guy’s back, shielding him with his body and stopping the car with his metal arm. The bumper molded around it; something he covered in curling over the man with a breathy, “You okay?”  
  
_ _Brown eyes stared back at him in shock. “Yeah. I’m fine. How are you?” he asked almost reflexively.  
  
_ _It took Bucky by surprise and he almost laughed. Jagged metal dug into his left side, he was light headed. Still, there was something he saw in the guy’s smile, the curious light in his eyes – it made Bucky say, “Peachy”, earning a laugh.  
  
_ _He helped the guy to his feet, watching as the people that stayed to watch start to move on their way. The guy was still looking at him, brow furrowed, his mouth moving wordlessly for a moment._

_“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”_

_He woke up in a hospital bed.  
  
_ _Years later, he’d be ashamed to say his first thought was wondering whether Hydra would let him leave the hospital before killing him. There was a quiet murmuring as he sat up and he looked over to see the guy from the street. He sat in a chair at Bucky’s bedside, eyes closed as he spoke quietly to himself.  
  
_ _Or maybe he was praying.  
  
_ _Bucky hadn’t expected to end up in a hospital racking up a bill he couldn’t afford. He certainly wouldn’t have expected the guy to stay. They guy looked tired that morning, clearly distracted by some sort of bad news on his phone. He had no reason to follow Bucky to the hospital and no reason to stay._

 _But he had.  
  
_ _"Hey,” Bucky rasped._ _  
  
__The guy’s head shot up, his gaze finding Bucky’s. He smiled._

* * *

The ride is silent.

Partially because Hill is sitting on Bucky’s left in the transport van and partially because Bucky doesn’t feel like talking.

Sam keeps looking at him, full of questions. Most of them Bucky probably can’t answer; the rest he can’t bear to. The fact that Sam is still here, that he fought so hard to stay means something. Hell, it means everything. Then again, he took a vow.

Would it mean as much if Sam knew it hadn’t been legally binding?

The van turns off somewhere and they ride up a steep ramp and come to a stop. There’s a loud clang as the van shakes. The air shifts and Bucky’s ears pop as they move. The doors open to blinding sunlight as Hill straps cuffs over Bucky’s wrists and ankles, connecting chains made out of a metal too heavy to be iron.

“Is that really necessary?” Sam asks, lip curling in disgust.

Hill’s eyes widen. “You really don’t know him at all, do you?”

She leaves Sam standing there with a pained look in his eye. Bucky longs to say something, to reach out but the guards haul him forward. He bites his tongue and continues on. He’d expected a jail cell. Instead, they step out of a hangar of some sort onto a large paramilitary base in the sky. Bucky stumbles a bit, staring out at the miles of endless clouds surrounding them. It looks like something out of one of Sam’s Star Wars films, not real life.

At least he can be certain of one thing: it’s not Hydra.

Sam keeps as close to him as he can, his shoulders tense as they move towards the large glass building on the edge of the base. All around them people move about their day, recruits jogging along the edge like there was no risk of falling through the sky, mechanics working on jets and planes and cars, a woman ina. Lab coat rushing past muttering to herself as she tapped away at a tablet. No attention paid to the man in chains being led by armed guards.

It isn’t until they’re inside that Bucky remembers its Tuesday. Sam was due at work at least an hour ago. He hadn’t had time to tell anyone he isn’t coming in and Bucky knows Sam hates being late. Almost more than he hates being sick. This group, whoever they are, if they want to, they’ll drag Sam down with him. It’d be the only way to truly hurt him. Rough Bucky up, throw him in a cell, they have to know that wouldn’t do a damn thing. Threaten Sam’s livelihood, the life he’d worked so hard to build for himself… Bucky couldn’t let them do that. 

Hill and the eye patch leads them to a glass conference room. For a secretive paramilitary group, they seem obsessed with transparency.

“What is this place?” Sam asks, watching people roam around outside the room. A junior agent pulls out a chair for Sam who simply stares at them until they leave.

“That’s a need to know,” Hill says.

“Is it? You dragged us out of our home, shoved guns in our faces and brought us to your little house in the sky.” At their silence, Sam lets out a frustrated breath. “What could you need us for? Are we in trouble?”

“Depends on what happens next,” eyepatch says.

“We don’t know why we’re here,” Sam says tiredly.

Eyepatch looks at Bucky. “That’s not exactly true. Is it, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky swallows nervously, moving to stand in front of Sam. “Who are you?”

“Director Nick Fury. This is Agent Maria Hill. We’re with an organization you’ve encountered before. Granted we met under very different circumstances.” He tosses a folder on the table, photos sliding out of it.

A man holding a rifle as he stands over two bodies. A large man laying out on a balcony, a knife plunged in his chest. A violinist with his throat cut.

“Bucky,” Sam says shakily. “What is he talking about?”

He reaches out for the file and Bucky touches his stomach, holding him back. He holds Sam’s gaze steadily. “Don’t. Trust me.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asks slowly, his eyes wide and fearful.

Scanning his face, Bucky looks to Fury. “What do you want? You here to arrest me?”

“I could. But I have a better use for you.” He studies Bucky critically, raising his chin. “Let’s make a deal: you be honest with me and I’ll be honest with you. No bullshit.”

“Deal.”

Fury sets down another folder. This one is filled with pictures of a blonde woman Bucky’s never seen. “One of my agents disappeared from her hotel in Vienna last week. My sources tell me it looks like your dirty work.”

Bucky sifts through the photos, searching for some reason she would’ve been targeted. “I didn’t do this,” he says.

“You sure? Same style. Taken in between one meeting and the next. Slim window. Nothing on the hotel security cams or the cams at the shops across the street. As if she disappeared into thin air. Like a ghost.”

“It wasn’t me. I was here.” He holds Fury’s gaze, his jaw tensing.

Fury’s eye narrows. “Lucky for you, we confirmed that first. Otherwise we would’ve been a lot less nice bringing you here.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“Bring her back.” Bucky stares at him. “You know how they operate. Our best shot at getting her back alive is sending in one of their own after her.”

“I’m not – I – I don’t know anything about them.”

“That’s not true, is it?” Hill asks.

“Of course it’s true,” Sam interjects, moving Bucky to the side where he’d been blocking Sam from view. “His name is James Wilson. He’s a construction worker. He’s never ever been outside of New York. Whoever you think you’ve got, you’ve got the wrong guy. I know him.”

The words tear at Bucky’s chest, words sticking in his throat. Fury sighs, looking from Sam to Bucky before dragging Bucky from the room by his jacket. Sam protests, watching worriedly as Hill keeps him in the conference room.

Fury marches Bucky down the hall before he veers on him. “Now, I’ve had enough of this. I don’t care about you playing house or whatever you had to tell that man to take you in,” he spits out. “Let’s cut to the chase: this offer is the only thing keeping you out of a black site prison.”

Bucky averts his gaze, studying the chains. Fury continues, his voice low. “Did you really think you were just going to roll off into the sunset like none of it ever happened?”

Pained, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, his hands curling into fists. He shakes his head once. He swallows past the knot in his throat, looking to Fury beseechingly. “I’ll do it. On one condition.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Bucky’s gaze drifts to Sam, watching as he paces the conference room. His eyes fall to the folders on the table, but he moves past them after some time, eying Hill like he might be able to make a run for the door. God, Bucky loves him so much. It tugs at his heart, leaves him weak as he finds the words.

“I do this, Sam stays clean.” He looks Fury in the eye, his voice firm. “I mean it. I don’t care what he says, what he asks of you, if you have to keep him here, you do it. He can’t come after me. You keep him safe.”

“He’s a free agent. We can’t stop him.”

“You will, or this is done. Throw me in a cell, do whatever you want with me. I don’t care. You’ll never see this woman again and I’ll sleep just fine.”

“Not exactly the Prince Charming Wilson thinks you are, huh?”

“Are you really trying to appeal to my morals, here?” He shakes his head, his eyes returning to Sam. “No, the only way I agree to do this is if I can be sure Sam is safe. That’s the deal.”

“He lives in the suburbs for god’s sake. You really think he’s going to go Rambo and chase after you?”

“You don’t know my husband,” Bucky says. “Take it or leave it.”

Fury thinks this over, his jaw tensing. Finally, he nods. He signals to two nearby agents and they move in behind Bucky, shoving him forward. He trips over the chains a bit before he finds his footing.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam shouts, moving along the glass trying to get Bucky’s attention.

There’s a dull ache in Bucky’s chest but he forces himself to keep going. He doesn’t look back.

They get him gear, armor, supplies.

The young girl in the armory looks terrified handing him a gun. It’d been ages since anyone had looked at him that way.

He moves by rote memory, his hands assembling the rifle without a thought. It’s easier than he’d thought it would be and that makes him sick. He tells himself he’s doing this for Sam, so he can have some chance at a future. Deep down, he’s scared it’s too late. If Fury found them, Hydra can, too.

Maybe they’d never really been safe.

They drop him in Vienna at sundown.

He touches down in a field, quickly finding cover in the forest. The last intel Fury had on Carter’s location, she was in her hotel in the center of the city. Bucky can’t exactly waltz into a fancy hotel lobby with a rifle and armor.

He scans the building until he finds a back door propped open where two busboys are taking a smoke break. Slipping in behind them, he keeps close to the walls and moves through the kitchen.

When he gets upstairs, he finds Carter’s room empty. Not even a bit disturbed. There’s a suitcase open on the bed, a phone charger plugged into the nightstand, a half eaten sandwich on the desk. Whoever took her slipped in and out without much of a struggle. Most likely used some sort of sedative. They’d been quiet, efficient and quick.

Fury had every reason to believe Bucky might’ve done this.

On his way out, he spies a piece of torn fabric caught in the doorjamb. Most likely left behind when they were dragging Carter out. Considering her size, the person that took her would’ve had to have been small themselves if they struggled to carry her. They would’ve worked smart. They would’ve found a cart of some sort to carry her out.

Or a suitcase.

Bucky pulls out the tablet Fury handed him, scanning through the footage from the hotel. No wonder Fury and Hill hadn’t seen them take Carter. They were expecting a shadow, someone that slipped in and out through the backdoor.

Certainly not someone who walked out through the front door. And certainly not a woman.

* * *

_**Before** _

_Bucky recalls one day he’d come to Sam’s apartment to return a glass dish._

_He’d been kept in the hospital for a month after his injury. At first, he stayed to make sure the metal embedded in his side wouldn’t cause an infection. Even knowing he was racking up a bill he could never pay, he’d stayed because he wouldn’t last long on the run if he got sick. After that first week, he couldn’t say for sure why he stayed._

_Sam came by every day. Every single day._

_Always with a smile on his face and something he’d snuck in for Bucky. An ice cream sundae, candy, a deck of cards once or twice. As much as trying to get Bucky to talk felt like pulling teeth, Sam never gave up. If Bucky didn’t feel like talking, Sam would. He talked about his life, about his job, about his time in the Air Force, about his family. After some time, Bucky started to look forward to seeing him._

_It had been a long time since he'd had anyone to talk to. Since anyone had wanted to talk to_ him _._

 _Sam was funny and charming and_ kind _. He brightened every room he entered and everyone seemed livelier just being near him. The orderlies and nurses always made sure to stop by when Sam visited and Sam always found a way to get fresh pillows and desserts for Bucky out of it. Bucky often sat back and just watched him. Sam was great with people._

_It was a wonder why someone so sweet would waste their time trying to get to know Bucky. He wasn’t good company. He hardly said a word, his expression was off putting to most people and it took days of Sam talking to him to get Bucky to share anything with him. But he did._

_Because Sam was too sweet – too kind hearted. He wanted to help every single person he met and a homeless man with dirty long hair, no home and no money was exactly the kind of pet project Sam had been looking for apparently. He talked about getting Bucky connected with the guys he knew at the V.A., that they’d help him. He talked like he really cared what happened to Bucky._

_And in return, Bucky cared for Sam._

_Saved him food and made him eat something when he visited, because he knew Sam worked through breakfast and lunch and he’d work through dinner if he got his way. He made up excuses about being tired or having physical therapy in the morning to get Sam to go home and get some sleep. Made himself bite the bullet and talk when Sam had bad days. He thought it helped in some way._

_Sam kept coming back._

_After Bucky was discharged, he headed over to Sam’s apartment building._

_“Sam? You said you’d be there when I got out and you never showed. Kinda rude to stand me up,” he began, trailing off as he reached Sam’s apartment._

_The door was cracked, the sight startling Bucky forward. Heart pounding, he moved swiftly towards the door, keeping close to the wall. He reached for a gun that wasn’t in his waistband anymore. There weren’t any signs that anyone had burst in. Then again, Sam was the kind of person that let strangers into his life. He’d let Bucky in after all. Clearly, he wasn’t the best judge of character._

_Was it a break in? A simple burglary? Was there a chance someone from Bucky’s past had caught up with him? Had seen Sam in his hospital room and decided to use Sam to hurt Bucky? His hands shook; Hydra knew a lot about how to break someone._

_He burst through the door, heart in his mouth._

_“Back so soon? Did you get the part?”Sam appeared down the hall, shirtless with a towel in hand as he wiped his face. When he dropped his hand, he stared at Bucky in surprise. “Bucky? What are you doing here?”_

_Bucky’s heart beat wildly, scanning Sam for any sign of injury. He seemed fine, not a visible bruise on his body. He moved rapidly, too fast – down the hall and right in front of Bucky in seconds. He touched Bucky’s hand gently, loosening his fist, eyes soft with concern._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_He held Sam’s gaze, trying to calm his breathing. All he could see was Sam. Sam lying dead on the floor, Sam strapped down in that chair while they found new methods to_ make _him comply._

_“Hey,” Sam said, cradling Bucky’s head in his hands. “What’s going on?”_

_Bucky shook himself a bit, swallowing thickly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”_

_“You don’t look fine,” Sam said with a tentative smile. “What is it?”_

_That was the thing with Sam: he always wanted to talk. Like words couldn’t make something worse. “I just… I saw the door and,” he swallowed, averting his gaze. “It’s stupid.”_

_“It’s not stupid.” Sam set the towel aside, moving around the island to his kitchen sink where his feet slosh through something wet. Bucky followed, finding a puddle on the floor. “The super’s supposed to be getting a part to fix this leaky faucet. I think the pipe’s loose.”_

_Sighing, Bucky sank down in front of it, examining the dripping pipe. “I can fix that.”_

_“Really?” Sam asked, dropping down beside him. At Bucky’s scrunched up face, he laughed. “I don’t doubt it. My dad taught me things about cars, not plumbing. I’m not completely useless, but I don’t know anything about this.”_

_Bucky rolled up his sleeves, sliding inside the cabinet. “See if you can find me a wrench, princess.”_

_As he worked, Sam talked, handing him tools from tie to time._

_“So, not that I'm not ungrateful, but you know I can handle myself, right?”_

_Bucky tightened the last part, sliding out from under the sink. Sam was sitting on the counter, watching the world outside his window. Upon seeing Bucky, he smiled, offering him a hand._

_“Is this about not knowing how to fix a leaky pipe?”_

_“No, it’s about you busting through my door to save the day.” He leaned back against the counter with a smirk. “I can handle myself in a fight.”_

_Bucky hummed, tossing the wrench in Sam’s makeshift toolbox. None of the tools seemed to match, but they got the job done. Bucky ran a hand through his damp hair, pulling off his button down shirt._

_“I can, you know? I was in the Air Force, remember.” Bucky looks to Sam, drying the damp spots on his chest with his shirt. Sam’s eyes widened as he licked his lips. “You didn’t have to come to my rescue.”_

_Bucky simply stared at him, watching Sam fidget. His hand gripped the edge of the counter, his lip caught between his teeth. He seemed nervous, but not like he was afraid. Bucky knew fear. This was something else._

_“I know that, Sam” He rested his hands on top of Sam’s, listening to his breath catch. Sam’s eyes tracked him, focused, waiting. “But I’m going to. I’m always going to.”_

_Sam’s eyes softened and he nodded once. Whatever confidence Bucky had quickly fled. The way Sam was looking at him made him feel like he’d stepped in quicksand. Sinking into something he had no business being in. But he couldn’t stop._

_And he didn’t want to._

_Sam’s fingers curled beneath his, a shiver running through him at the cool surface of Bucky’s hand. Sam had never been afraid of his prosthetic. Used to fall asleep at Bucky’s bedside tracing shapes and words into it until he drifted off. His gaze fell to it now, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Their lips met before Bucky processed what happened. Before he realized that it was his hand on Sam’s face drawing him in._

_Feeling Sam open for him with a sigh, like he’d been waiting for this for ages. Sam smelled of soap, his warmth and the feel of him leaving Bucky weak in the knees. He traced his thumb along Sam’s cheek, feeling him shiver and he was gone. Chasing more of those soft little sounds, lost in every hitching breath and the way Sam laced their fingers together on the counter, keeping him close._

_Bucky wasn’t supposed to be here, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way. If he ever had._

_He was supposed to leave New York a month ago. He’d come over to say his goodbyes. He was never supposed to stay longer than a few weeks._

_Sam drew him in further._

* * *

The next morning, Bucky uses the cameras around Vienna to trace the Hydra agent to the outskirts of the city. There’s a group of cottages surrounded by woods. This clearly isn’t where she’s hiding Fury’s agent. For one thing, the surrounding neighbors appear to be civilians. The type that, were they to hear anything or see anything suspicious, would call it in to the police. Too much of a risk to house a hostage here.

So, they must’ve taken Agent Carter to another location. Which meant this was probably the kidnapper’s base.

It’s easy enough to slide a knife along the window to unlatch it and climb inside. It’s barren. Clearly this woman hadn’t lived here long. Bucky remembers this life better than he’d like to. Moving from place to place, never really settling or having a home. The stake outs that lasted for days, just sitting and watching the target. When his life hadn’t been his.

He searches the drawers and the cabinets, but he doesn’t find much of anything. He leaves everything the way he left it and leaves through the window. There’s a loud thud and the glass shatters against his face, shards cutting into his chek as the btt of a rifle slams into his chin.

Veering back, he grips the window ledge and kicks out, catching a man hard in the ribs. In seconds, he’s on them, gripping their kevlar vest and slamming them to the ground. He still hasn’t processed what he’s doing, but his body remembers. It moves instinctively, rolling back to avoid the boot to the face. They roll together, gravel digging in before he launches forward.

He gets them down on their back and it’s lights out after a few hits.

Standing, he heads for the back of the cottage. Feels the bullet slice through his arm before he hears the gunshot.

Cursing, he drops to a knee, sliding behind a rusted out Volkswagen as more shots ring out. Maybe he’s rustier than he thought. From the trajectory of the bullets, there’s about three shooters. Maybe more. Bucky’s good, always had been, but he can’t take the all out without taking more damage.

Boots sound on the grass, heading for him. The accent is German. “I’ve heard about you. Always wanted to meet the ghost.”

Bucky grimaces at the warm blood dripping into his shirt as he raises his rifle, only to have it kicked out of his hand. A man stands above him in riot gear, his heavy black boots pressing into Bucky’s hand.

“Never meet your heroes.”

He raises his gun. For a split second, Bucky sees Sam’s face, his smile and the light in his eyes. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, waiting.

There’s a sound like a whip and a gunshot. Bucky’s heart skips a beat. But it keeps beating.

“You know, they told me you were good at this sort of thing,” a voice says.

Sam’s standing in front of him, gun in hand. He drops down, some sort of armor expanding from his back and shielding them as the others take aim.

“What is that?” Bucky asks, grimacing as the bullets embed in the Volkswagen and bounce off of Sam’s armor. Sam looks him over, touching his chest and stomach, his mouth firming as he sees the shot Bucky took to his right arm.

“Can we talk about this later?” Sam asks as they both try to locate the shooters before dropping back behind the Volkswagen. “If we make it.”

Bucky looks to him briefly before rushing the shooter on the left. He’s tucked into the trees and Bucky grabs him around the waist and brings him down. Sam gives cover as Bucky charges the last shooter, grabbing him around the throat and bringing him down before he can get to Sam. He knocks the gun out of the guy’s hand, climbing to his feet with rasping breaths.

His arm is soaked in blood, his head swimming a bit as Sam comes to stand in front of him, wide eyed. Bucky straightens his hair, holding his gaze.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam says breathlessly. The corner of his mouth quirks. “I’ve just… never seen you move like that.” He looks at the gunmen scattered on the ground. “You okay?” he asks, looking back at Bucky.

It gives Bucky pause. Even as the bullet wound in his arm pulses painfully, he nods. “Let’s get out of here.”

Bucky leads the way back to the car he’d stolen. Fury offered to get him one, but it was easier this way. Harder to track.

He scans the darkened street for more shooters, ushering Sam ahead with a hand on his back. He shoves him in the passenger side of the car and runs around to the driver’s side.

“A minivan? Sexy,” Sam says as Bucky starts the car.

“It’s less noticeable and easy to steal.”

“You steal cars now?”

Bucky forces his eyes forward. They’ve only been driving for a few minutes before Sam asks, “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to keep searching for Agent Carter. You’re going back to New York.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not. I’m staying right here.”

Bucky sees that stubborn twist to his mouth. “Sam, I don’t have time to talk about this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“This isn’t a game. You could’ve been killed back there.”

“So could you.”

“It’s different,” he starts.

“I know you think you’re some kind of Superman but you’re not invincible.” Bucky turns to him and Sam presses on. “I’m sorry, baby, but you’re not.”

“It’s different for me.”

“No, it’s not. So, you’re gonna have to get over it because I’m not going home without you.”

Bucky shakes his head, pressing down harder on the gas. At Bucky’s silence, Sam reaches out, jerking the steering wheel. Cursing, Bucky tries to hold on, slamming on the brakes as they veer off the road in a screech of tires. They come to a sudden stop, Bucky's heart beating fast as he stares out into the dark night.

Turning his head, he finds Sam staring forward, blinking dazedly. “You okay?” Sam nods shakily. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Sam shakes himself a bit, studying his hands. The glint of his wedding band glittering in the streetlights. “I just wanted you to stop.”

Wordless, Bucky studies him in profile. Finally, he settles on, “Sam… I have to do this.”

“Why do you have to do it alone?” he asks, searching Bucky’s face.

There’s a car approaching on the road. Bucky pays it no mind, they're not blocking the way. The engine roars louder with a flash of blinding lights and then the world turns.

Bucky wakes with a wince, biting down a shout. There’s a sharp pain in his side and a pulsing rush of blood down his side that can only mean a shattered rib broke through his skin. Grimacing, he moves as carefully as he can through the crushed cage of molded metal and scattered glass. He can’t see Sam and that realization forces him out faster than his body can handle, paying no mind to the glass cutting into his arm and chest. The wound in his side draws an agonizing scream as he crawls across the pavement.

There’s two sets of headlights illuminating the road. Boots sounding on crushed glass and gavel towards him. Panicked, he looks for Sam, adrenaline and fear the only things keeping him awake. He moves around the car, his heart pounding painfully fast in his chest. Finally, he finds Sam lying a few feet away on his stomach. A little banged up, but breathing.

A boot lands on Bucky’s hand, grinding his bones into the ground before he can reach Sam. “Never thought we’d see you again.” Growling, Bucky scans for something, anything he can use. Car doors slam shut as more people make it their way.

Sam’s still not moving. He’s still in the shadows near the woods. There’s a chance these men haven’t seen him. He can still get out of this. Go home clean. It means Bucky can never see him again, but he’d known that. He’d said goodbye to that part of his life the second he made that deal with Fury.

Gripping the boot, Bucky tugs hard, yanking the man down and turning him away from Sam. The other two enter the picture, gun drawn. They’re inexperienced, one of them has the safety on. He can take them, but he needs to get them further away from Sam.

Blond guy on the right looks like he doesn’t want to be here. Bucky only feels a little bit bad about kicking out at the guy next to him. His shaky grip causes the gun to go off and the blond goes down. It’s a distraction as Bucky lashes out with his metal arm, shoving his boot in another guy’s chest. The gun goes off again as the two uninjured men rush him.

It becomes clear that the goal is to kill Bucky, not bring him in alive. Somehow, he finds that comforting.

His vision is flickering, dark spots forming on the edge. His heart is thudding in his chest, but he moves past it. He can’t let them get Sam. He has to keep going.

The last one standing gets him on the ground, a hand around his throat. Bucky claws at his hands weakly, gasping for breath. He kicks out, tries to turn them, but he can’t get him off. He scrambles, twisting his body as he reaches for his boot. His fingers curl around the blade strapped to his ankle and he jams it between the guy’s ribs. His eyes widen, his hands reaching for the knife as Bucky headbutts him.

He rolls over, gasping for breath. The lights spiral as his vision whirls. He finds Sam a few feet away and then everything drops out.

* * *

_**Before** _

_That day, Bucky remembered thinking Sam was angry with him._

_They’d been doing whatever the hell it was they were doing for about eight months. Bucky was hesitant to call it dating… but what else was it? Anytime that wasn’t spent working or at group meetings, he spent with Sam. He had a key to Sam’s apartment and had dinner on the table when Sam came home from work. He slept over most nights and he knew Sam’s friends. Hell, Sam was listed as Bucky’s emergency contact._

_As ill advised as it was, he’d let himself get attached and he wasn’t willing to let Sam go._

_So, when Sam came home from work that night and seemed on edge about something, Bucky took notice. He asked Sam about his day, about how his visit with his sister went last weekend, if he wanted Bucky to take a look at the broken drawer in his bathroom. All of it got one word answers like fine, okay and sure. Sam wasn’t making eye contact and he froze when Bucky moved in to kiss him._

_And sure, a lot of this twenty first century stuff made no sense to Bucky, but he could read a room. He knew how it felt when he was getting the brush off; but he’d never gotten it from Sam. Even when he’d pissed him off, Sam never just shut down. He talked about literally everything._

_Something was wrong and he clearly didn’t feel like he could talk about it. At least, not with Bucky._

_Bucky waited until they sat down at the table where he mustered the courage to say something. He watched Sam pick at his carbonara before he cleared his throat and, sure, maybe he overreacted._

_“Is it over?” Bucky asked, watching Sam’s head snap up, eyes wide._

_“What?”_

_“Is it over?” He chewed on his lip, pushing his plate away. “You’re not talking to me and you can barely look at me.”_

_Sam’s eyes soften and he shakes his head, rubbing at his brow. “I love you,” he muttered, covering his face._

_“You said that. I won’t hold you to it.”_

_Sam sighed, pushing his chair back. He got up, holding Bcuky’s gaze as his heart sank. Sam moved in closer._

_He dropped down on one knee._

_He’d never tell anyone, especially Sam, but for a second, he’d thought Sam tripped. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. Breath catching, Bucky watched, painfully still as Sam reached out and took his hand._

_“I have been carrying this thing for two months now. I thought maybe six months wasn’t long enough. Then seven. I’m not even sure if eight is long enough, but I don’t really care if it’s the right length of time. I think I knew the day you saved my life.”_

_“I was injured and delirious,” Bucky replied._

_“You risked your life to save a total stranger.” Sam smoothed his thumb over his hand, drawing a shiver. Sam smiled, gazing up into his eyes. “And I know you think all this romance crap is stupid—”_

_“I don’t think it’s stupid.”_

_“You do.”_

_“I do not,” he cut himself off, glaring at Sam lightly. Sam bit down a laugh, his eyes glittering. “I don’t. I just don’t think you need to waste your money on me.”_

_“It’s not a waste,” Sam said gently. “I buy you things because I want you to have them. It’s selfish, really.”_

_“Sure,” he replied, threading their fingers together._

_“Like that sweater I bought you. It’s tighter than the ones you wear and that was definitely for me.”_

_Bucky laughed, tugging Sam closer. “If you say so.” He swallowed nervously, his heart beating fast. “Gimme your ring, princess.”_

_“That’s not how it works. I have to ask the question and you have to say yes.” He came up on his knees, taking Bucky’s hands._

_“The question,” he murmured, holding Sam’s gaze. Sam nodded. “Will you marry me?”_

_“Yeah,” Sam said, opening his mouth._

_“Great,” he said._

_He took Sam’s hand and reached into his pocket. Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion, eyes widening as Bucky pulled out a ring. When he slid it on Sam’s finger, Sam let out a frustrated huff._

_“You are the worst person I’ve ever met, you know that?”_

_Bucky laughed, smoothing his thumb over the silver band. “I’ve been told.”_

_“The worst! You couldn’t have waited?” Sam demanded, staring at him in amazement._

_“Probably not,” he said honestly as Sam pulled him into a kiss. Grinning, he leaned into it, holding Sam close. He pulled Sam into a hug, breathing him in. “Does it really matter who asked?"_

_“I guess not.” Sam nosed into his throat with a sigh. “When did you buy that?”_

_Four months ago. “Not that long ago,” he said, stroking Sam’s back. “Figured, if you were serious about keeping me around, I’d make it official.”_

_Sam pulled back, carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair with a smile. “I am serious.” His gaze fell to his ring, smile widening. “Gonna be hard to get rid of me now.”_

_“I’m countin’ on it.” He pulled Sam into another kiss, his eyes falling shut._

_He was never supposed to stay._

* * *

When Bucky comes to, he’s lying on something hard.

THe lights are out and it’s quiet save for crickets chirping. There’s a throbbing pain in his side and his head aches like he’d been through the ringer. Groaning, he tries to pull himself up.

There’s a quiet rustling. “I wouldn’t do that.” Wincing, Bucky grabs his side and turns his head to find Sam sitting in a chair beside him, head down, hands clasped together. “You’ll tear your stitches.”

Bucky feels along his side. There’s a jagged line of raised skin where it had been sewn together. Well, by the feel of it. Not the hack job Bucky would’ve done if he’d been left to his own devices. 

“You alright?”

Sam looks up at him in question, nodding once before his gaze drops his hands. Whatever armor he’d been wearing lay on the floor beside him. There’s a small gash on his cheek, a few cuts and scrapes on his arms. But he looks fine. Still alive.

For now.

Despite Sam’s warning, Bucky forces himself upright. Grunting when the stitches pull. Cursing, Sam stands, trying to keep him down. “You ever listen to anything I tell you?” he asks quietly.

“We’ve gotta get back on the road.”

“Buck,” Sam starts, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“We’ll have to find another car.”

“Stop!” Sam shouts, cutting Bucky off. “Just stop! Would you look at yourself? You’re being held together with dental floss and a prayer. You’ve been out for three hours and I spent the whole time sitting here scared to death that you were—” he cut himself off, covering his mouth. He paces a few steps, his eyes bright before he lowered them to the floor. “Just stop, okay? Just for a few minutes.”

Bucky watches him, his chest tightening at the pained look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, okay.” Sam turns away from him, holding himself. Bucky reaches out, grimacing when he can’t quite touch Sam. “C’mere.”

Sam wipes at his face, moving towards him. Bucky pulls him into his arms, stroking his back. “Your stitches,” Sam says.

“They’ll keep.” He holds Sam for a moment, closing his eyes. Sam slowly relaxes his embrace, his breathing heavy. “I’ll be fine. You patched me up.” He pulls back to look Sam in the eye. “You did that.”

Sam nods, sighing as he moves back into Bucky arms. “I really thought you were going to die.”

“I know.”

“That I came all the way out here just in time to watch.” Sam shook his head, his hands twisting in Bucky’s shirt. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Bucky’s stomach twists, his mind filled with all the times he’d come close to leaving. He’d known it would be safer for Sam if he had. Knows that more than ever now. Even so, it makes him pull Sam closer, hold him tighter, like he can keep him together with his own two hands.

“Fury broke his promise,” he murmurs. Sam pulls away. “He was supposed to keep you out of this.”

“He tried,” Sam says, the corner of his mouth quirking. “He thought I’d just go home and let it go. But I don’t scare easy.”

“You know what these people are like. What they’ve done.” He shakes his head, a shudder running through him. “Especially to people like you. Good people.”

“I made a vow.”

“No one’s holding you to that.” Sam’s jaw tenses as Bucky insists, “I mean it.”

Eyes hardening, Sam pushes him back, his lip curling. “Whoever you are, you owe me at least a few answers. I wasn’t going to let you run off before I got them.” Bucky’s mouth moves wordlessly as Sam’s mouth quirks humorlessly “That was your play, right? Tell me everything will be alright and then I never see you again. Real sweet.”

“It was safer that way.” He makes to stand and Sam pushes him back on the table. By the looks of things, it doesn’t take much to keep him.

“My answers. Then we can go.”

Sam paces for a while. Finally, “Let’s start simple: what’s your name?”

Swallowing, Bucky answers, “James Buchanan Barnes.” He chews on his lip, then adds, “Steve called me Bucky.”

“Steve?”

“Someone I used to know. Before.”

“Right. The 1940s. Before the big freeze.”

“It sounds crazy, but it’s true.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I fell from the train fighting Hydra. They found me in the snow, gave me this arm and made me kill for them.”

Sam’s brow furrows, “How?” he asks, his eyes wet.

It tugs at Bucky’s heart and he has to curl his fingers around the edge of the table to keep from reaching out. “You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

“That’s asking a lot of me right now.” He rests his hands on his hips. “You’d have to be, what, over ninety years old? How is that possible?”

“There was the ice. And other things,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking.

Sam sits down, studying his hands. He touches his wedding band, his words quiet. “Why me?” Bucky tries to speak but the words catch around the knot in his throat. Sam takes the silence and it leaves his voice thick as he looks to Bucky, his eyes spilling over. “Why did you choose me? What was it about me? I was just another cover for you, wasn’t I?”

“No, Sam,” he tries, moving past the pain as he reaches for Sam.

“I was. I was gullible and stupid. I should’ve known better. I should’ve asked more questions.”

Bucky slides forward, taking Sam’s hands. Sam looks at him, his face drawn. “Sam, I was living on the street when I met you. I’d just escaped Hydra, I had no money, no place to stay. I was lost. And then I saw you.” He smiled, lost in the memory.

“You saved my life.”

“And you saved mine. You were the first person in a long time that looked at me like there was something worth looking at.” He touches Sam’s face, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “You helped give me a life. I’d never stayed anywhere longer than a week or two but you… I couldn’t just leave. I’d know it was best for you, but every time I tried,” his voice falls away.

“What stopped you?”

Bucky stares at him and Sam’s eyes soften. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s palm, closing his eyes. “It was selfish. I know that. I’d come so close to leaving and then I’d think about what that would mean. Never being near you again, never seeing you again, never knowing if you were safe, if you were okay. It drove me crazy, Sam.”

He presses his lips to Sam’s head, stroking his cheek softly. “’M sorry,” he murmurs.

Sam wraps his arms around him. “If Fury hadn’t found you, would you have ever told me?” Bucky’s silence is telling. Sam holds him close. “If I hadn’t found you here, I wouldn’t have stopped looking until I found you.”

The words warm Bucky as much as they worry him. “You need to go home, Sam.”

“What is that?” Sam pulls back, looking him in the eye. “What is that for me?”

Bucky swallows thickly, reluctantly letting Sam pull away from him. “You know the worst part fo all of this? It’s you thinking I’d just forget about you. You, Fury, Hill… all of you think I’d just go back to that house and just live the rest of life without you. Like you never existed.”

“Sam,” he tries.

“Would you? If you were me?”

Bucky doesn’t have to think about it. “No.”

“Despite what you did, you’re still my husband. I took a vow. You won’t hold me to it, that’s just fine. I will.” His eyes harden as he plants a hand in Bucky’s chest and pushes him back down on the table. “Now, lie down before you tear your stitches.”

Sam had gotten them into some sort of office building.

They made it to the break room a few hours later where they found something to eat.

“You picked the lock?” Bucky asks absently, poking at his food as they sit on the conference table.

“I did.”

“Didn’t know you knew how to do that,” he muses.

“You’re not the only one with secrets.”

He means it as a joke, but it makes Bucky’s insides twist. Sam opens a tupperware container, glancing at the lid as he sets it aside. “Patricia’s going to be pissed tomorrow.”

“Think she’ll take it out on Kevin?” Bucky asks, looking at his own lid.

“Oh definitely.” He pokes at the rice before holding it out to Bucky. “Trade you?”

“Kevin’s leftover mac and cheese for plain rice?” At Sam’s face, he sighs heavily. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you.” It slips out before he even thinks about it. At the ensuing silence, he sighs. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Sam asks, his face deceptively blank. “Loving me?”

Bucky takes the container out of Sam’s hands and sets it aside. “I meant what I said: you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all of this.”

Sam thinks this over. “I’m not. I couldn’t let you do this alone.” He wipes his hands on his jeans. “What now?”

“I didn’t find anything in the kidnapper’s house. I think they took the agent somewhere remote, on the outskirts of town. Some place with walls thick enough to block any tracking signals. All Fury’s agents have them and hers has been dormant for days. Even if she’s dead, it would keep transmitting. Vienna’s not exactly the kind of place with a ton of buildings like that.”

“You mean it’s not the best place to hide a hostage.”

“If it were me,” he cuts himself off abruptly.

Sam looks to him, eyes free of any judgment. “If it were you?”

“I’d only keep her local if I had to. They need her for something. Otherwise they’d have gotten rid of her.”

“How do you know they haven’t?”

“They would've left if they had. There’s no Hydra base here. No reason for one. They’re hanging around here and I don’t know why. We need to find their hideout.”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“You’ve got to get on the next plane back to New York.”

“Let’s try looking at this from a new angle,” Sam says, as if Bucky hadn’t spoken. “Come on. Trust me.”

It’s not easy getting comfortable with Sam’s form of transport.

With his stomach twisting nervously as he watched the get further and further away, he wonders if this is how Sam felt the first time he rode with Bucky on his bike. He’s terrified, but he trusts Sam.

They touch down on a tall watchtower, a ways out from the city. Sam looks him over, checking his stitches before letting him go.

“You’ll survive.” He looks out, his eyes widening. He rests his arms on the railing, looking back at Bucky with a smile. “You know, this place isn’t half bad. When we’re not being shot at.”

It’s near sun up. This far from the city, they can watch the sunrise over the trees in the distance. It’s almost…

“Beautiful,” Sam whispers. His smile widens. “You were thinking it.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sam hums with a shrug. “I do. I know you.”

Warming, Bucky wraps an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him to his side. Sam shivers, stiffening immediately after. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to rub some warmth into him. “Should’ve brought a jacket, princess.”

“Didn’t have time, what with being shot at and having to sew your insides together.” After some time, he squints in the distance, pointing at a large brick building in the distance. “You think she’s in there?”

Sam chose the place because it’s thick brick and the steel doors. It’s as good a guess as any. Even if they’re wrong, they can stay here and regroup.

When they slip into the basement, all of their tech loses signal. They look at each other when their comms go dead. Sam’s eyes light up with excitement.

“Okay, okay, you got lucky,” Bucky mutters.

“I’m a genius. You married a genius.”

Bucky bites down a fond smile as he moves down the hall, careful to keep Sam behind him. “This looks like some sort of lab,” Sam whispers, stopping to peer through one fo the doors.

Bucky follows suit, finding tables covered in beakers and test tubes. Further down the hall, they see two lab coats poking around on computers.

“This is probably what Fury sent Carter to find.”

“So, they kidnapped her and gave her a ride?” Sam moved through the halls, dropping his gun as he peered inside another lab. Bucky pushes his arm back up, as Sam looks to him worriedly. “You should see this.”

“We have to find Carter and get out of here.”

Sam licks his lips, looking at the room and back to Bucky, clearly torn. “We have to come back.”

Bucky takes his hand and pulls him forward as he scans the halls. This place doesn’t look well defended, but that could just be to keep up appearances. It probably would chase off investors if the place looked like a prison. Everything crisp with blindingly white walls and shimmering tile floors. They’re near the end of the hall when they hear voices. Hanging back, they wait as two lab coats pass by before they slip down the hall.

They each take a side of the hall and peer through the glass windows in the doors. Bucky’s just found some sort of utility closet when Sam whispers, “Over here.”

He finds Sam quickly slipping inside a door and follows. He finds Sam kneeling over someone on the floor and tugging at their bindings. When Carter comes into view, Bucky sighs in relief.

“You’re not exactly what I was expecting,” Carter says, grinning when Sam removes the last of the ropes. By the looks of things, they’ve been feeding her. There’s empty food containers on the floor and a jug of water nearby. They must’ve wanted her alive for some reason.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sam says. “I’m Sam. This is Bucky.”

Carter nods, rushing to the door and peering down the hall. “Nice to meet you. Fury send you?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” she mutters. “I told him I had it handled. And I did.”

“Any reason you’re still alive?” Bucky asks, holding up his hand at the sharp glare he receives and Sam’s tutting noise. “No offense. It’s just that they’re not exactly known for keeping hostages alive.”

“I wasn't taken. Not exactly. I let them bring me here, granted the travel conditions weren’t my first choice. You have a spare piece?”

Bucky nods, handing her one of the guns he’d stolen from the men last night. “Thanks,” she says distractedly, focused on the door. “I never do well when kids are involved.”

“Kids?” Bucky asks, looking at her in question.

“I told you, we need to double back,” Sam says.

“Wait, you saw her?” Carter asks, eyes wide as she stares at Sam.

Sam nods. “She’s in one of the rooms we passed near the basement.” His mouth firms as he squares his shoulders. “We can’t just leave her.”

“You want to try to escape from this place with a kid?” she asks, taken aback. She looks at Bucky. “Who is this guy?”

“He’s not one of you and he’s not one of them.” He tries to keep the embarrassing fondness out of his tone, but judging by the amused look in her eye, it doesn’t work. “He’s good.”

Carter paces a few steps, muttering to herself. “I don’t want to leave her anymore than you do. But it’ll be risky.”

“What isn’t?” Sam asks.

Nodding, Carter flashes a brief smile. “On my count, you two make a run for it. I’ll cover you and we meet at the basement floor.”

“We got in just fine,” Bucky says.

“I know. They don’t care if you get in. Anyone can do that. The hard part’s getting out.”

An alarm sounds as the door opens and Bucky tenses, all three of them with their guns at the ready as heavy boots pound the tiles headed towards them. Guards appear at both ends of the hall, batons and guns in hand.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters.

He shoves Sam behind him as Carter heads left and he goes right. A bullet embeds in the wall inches from Bucky’s head as he slides along the tile, taking out a guard’s ankles. Rising up on his knees, he takes three shots. It takes out the rest of the guards at his end of the hall, but more are coming.

And Sam’s in the middle.

He charges forward, praying he’ll get there in time. The guards raise their guns to fire and Bucky’s heart lodges in his throat. In an arc, wings expand from Sam’s back, blocking the shots with a staccato as they ricochet off metal and plaster. Sam launches towards them, twisting through the air as the wings move with him, molded around him and expanding out, knocking the guards to the ground.

Bucky watches in awe, standing up dazedly. One guard breaks free and Sam takes hold of his shirt, slamming him into the wall and stepping over him.

There’s a swagger in his step that Bucky would probably hate if he didn’t find it incredibly sexy. Not that he’d ever tell Sam that.

“Told you I could handle myself,” Sam says smugly.

Bucky rolls his eyes, touching Sam’s cheek and quickly checking him over. “Let’s go, bird boy.”

Sam leads them to the room where they find Carter inside tapping hurriedly at a computer. Sam rushes over to a gurney in the corner. “What’s taking so long?” Bucky asks, watching the hall.

“I can’t just yank her out of here,” Carter replies. “She’s hooked up to all kinds of machines.”

“Yeah, well, they’re rolling out the welcome wagon. I’d like to make it out of here without being shot again.”

“Just a second!”

“If anything happens to Sam,” he starts.

“Your husband will be returned intact if he could give me a hand here,” Carter says sardonically.

Bucky thinks he might like her under different circumstances. Sam rushes over to help her disconnect the electrodes from the machines before they carefully pull out the central line and the restraints. What the hell happened here?

A bullet ricochets off of the door jamb. Bucky waits until he sees the outstretched arm and snags it, smashing the wrist against the wall with a crack. He takes the gun, firing to keep the men back as they come around the corner.

“We gotta go!”

Sam gathers a bundle of blankets in his arms and heads for the door. “We good?” Sam asks.

Carter nods, pocketing a flash drive and following behind. Bucky pushes her forward with a nod. “I got this. You and Sam go ahead. I’ll follow.”

It takes a few tries, but Bucky manages to hotwire a car out back. Sam climbs in the backseat with the kid as Carter takes the front.

Sighing, she pulls off her jacket, turning her wrist with a wince. Frowning, Bucky returns his eyes to the road. “That looks pretty bad.”

Carter covers the welt with her hand. “I’ve had worse. So, have you.” She looks at him. “I know who you are.”

“Then you know what I’ve done.” He peeks at Sam in the rearview mirror. He’s holding onto the child carefully. His eyes meet Bucky’s and he nods in assurance, leaning back as Bucky returns to the road. “How long were you watching us?”

“Long enough. We thought you were planning something. There was to be a gala downtown. A lot of world renowned scientists with an incalculable amount of tech Hydra would kill to get their hands on. No one had seen or heard from you in years. We assumed that was why you were in New York.”

“But?”

But,” she’s’ quiet for a moment. When he looks over, he finds her studying the ring on his finger. “We followed you for days. It was the most bored I’d ever been. You went to work, then home, then work, then home, then work, then a pie shop, then home. There was one day you took a detour. I thought for sure you were meeting with someone, a handler or something. Then you picked up Sam’s dry cleaning.” 

Face burning, Bucky muttered, “I could’ve been undercover.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t.” Bucky cleared his throat, focusing on the road. “When we realized you hadn’t just been in New York for a few months, but eight years, we dug around trying to figure out how we missed it. You’d just disappeared. Well, James Barnes did. James Wilson had years of records, traffic tickets, a mortgage, you even paid your taxes despite not having a legitimate social security number.” She shakes her head. “And I thought, why would anyone do that?”

“I’m a catch,” Sam chimes in, earning a laugh as Carter looks back at him.

“I didn’t say you weren’t. But, if this is a cover, it’s a damn good one. An elaborate one. Your neighbors know you. You have things set up like you planned to stick around.”

“Wasn’t a plan,” Bucky says. “Not at first.”

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to blow up your whole world,” she says gently. “I’m sorry. I thought you were planning something. I was wrong.”

“If you knew that, why’d Fury bring him in?” Sam asks.

“He knew someone that believed in you. He believed you could be helped. That you’d choose to help others.”

“And bringing me in as a prisoner?”

“Fury’s not great at making friends.”

* * *

They ride back in a jet. Carter – _Sharon_ , she prefers, takes the kid to the back where a medic looks her over. Bucky still hasn’t seen her. She’d seemed so small bundled up in those blankets. Sam seemed hesitant to let her go, which makes Bucky feel a familiar rush of guilt.

“What is it?” Sam asks, sitting beside him.

“How is she?”

“Don’t know. There’s no telling what kind of chemicals were in those IVs.”

“She was kidnapped?”

“For some sort of experiment, looks like.” Sam rubs his yes tiredly. Knowing Sam, he hasn’t gotten any sleep since the night before they were taken. Bucky takes his hand, smoothing his thumb over the back. Sam looks at him expectantly. “Now, what’s wrong.”

Bucky chews on his lip. “What happens now?”

“We take the kid back to SHIELD. Fury makes good on his deal,” Sam says firmly.

“Then… we go home?” He studies their hands. “Where is that? Fury found us. Hydra could find us, too.”

Sam tugs at his hand, drawing his gaze. “What do you want?”

It’s unexpected. “What?”

“What do you want? You want to go home, fight to stay there? You want to move out to the middle of nowhere and hide? You want to beg Fury for a cabin on the Helicarrier? What do you want?” Sam asks, squaring his shoulders.

Bucky holds his gaze, chewing on his lip once more. He tugs Sam forward, watching his eyes widen at the strength behind it. He comes easily, sitting on Bucky’s lap. “I want what you want,” Bucky says plainly.

“Nice try, but you’re not sidestepping this one.”

“No tricks, I mean it. You took a huge risk coming out here to help me. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Sam cups his face, eyes softening with a fondness. “I want what you want. Just name it.”

Sam’s eyes follow the aisle to the back of the plane. Then he lowers his gaze to Bucky’s chest, spreading a hand out there. “I can’t just go back. Pretend I don’t know all of this.”

“I know.”

“We were good out there.” He smiles, his eyes bright with excitement when they find Bucky’s. “We make a great team. Maybe we can’t just go back to our lives the way they were before, but is that such a bad thing?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. Of all the options, he wouldn’t have thought Sam would choose this. He hadn’t even thought it was an option. “You want us to keep doing this? I can think of safer ways to spice up a marriage.”

“Maybe… but can you think of better ways to help people?”

“Sam,” he chooses his words carefully. “I have to keep you safe.”

“I know, but who’s keeping her safe?” he asks, nodding towards the back. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, smoothing back his hair. “You said marriage.”

“That’s what happens when you go to the courthouse and exchange the rings.”

Sam shoves at him gently. “You said you wouldn’t hold me to it.”

“It’s not exactly legally binding.” Not that that had ever mattered before. It had always been real to Bucky.

“It can be,” Sam says, a spark in his eye.

* * *

_**Before** _

_“There’s going to be a banister here. One of those fancy ones, like in the movies,” Bucky says, pulling Sam behind him as they moved through the foyer. At Sam’s clueless look, he cleared his throat, continuing on. “And there’s going to be a deck out back, but with enough of a yard that it still counts. And there’s some old shag carpet in the den, but we can rip that up and put down wood floors like in the rest of the house.”_

_He finishes in a rush, turning around. Sam’s staring at him like he’s crazy. And Bucky gets it – this place is definitely a work in progress. The entire upstairs level has yet to be built, sunlight streams in through a skylight with no glass, it has half a kitchen and from the front door, Bucky can see into the roof, insulation and all. It’s more of a shell than a house. But if Sam could just see what it could be…_

_Bucky moves towards him, his stomach in knots. “Buck, what is this place?” Sam asks._

_“Ours. If we want it.” He swallows, looking around at the unfinished flooring. “The family that was planning to move here decided they’d be safer in another state. With all the alien invasions and robot armies.”_

_Sam nods. “Makes sense.”_

_“It’ll take some time and more work, but… if you want it, it’s ours.” He licks his lips, his hands shaking as he slides them in his pockets. “You wanted a place for us. For the future.”_

_Turning around, Sam looks at him wondrously. He knows what this means. Probably knew before Bucky did._

_Because despite saying the vows, this is the first time Bucky took the first step. The first time he made a plan for their future. He’d stop thinking there was ever going to be a home for him anywhere else. With anyone else._

_He’d never planned for Sam._

_Sam crosses his arms, looking around at the unfinished walls, the plywood door to the backyard, the visible beams in the ceilings. He walks the house, though there’s not much to see. Bucky waits, leaning against the shell of the staircase._

_When Sam returns, he looks to Bucky, his eyes bright. “It’s ours?”_

_Bucky nods and Sam beams, pulling him into a kiss. Sighing, Bucky takes him in, bathed in sunlight._

* * *

Fury’s coat billows behind him as he enters the room. Everyone stands to attention, putting down tablets and phones.

"The man knows how to make an entrance,” Sam mutters and Bucky cracks a smile.

“Gentlemen, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Wilson. I see you’ve returned Agent Carter to me.”

“I was working. I’m not a lost puppy,” she says, arms crossed.

“Noted,” Fury replies. If Bucky knew the guy better, he’d say that was almost a smile. “Now, I hear Mr. Wilson has some demands.”

“Not exactly.” Sam clears his throat, looking to Bucky nervously. Bucky nods encouragingly. “You were watching us before. I want that to stop.”

“We thought you were shacked up with an assassin. No offense, but we’re not exactly looking to keep up with your suburban life.”

“Good. You talked about a pardon. We want that, too.”

“I’ll run it up the chain. Now,” Fury turns to the group and Sam continues.

“We’re working the case.” Fury stops, looking to him in question. “We can’t go back. I know I can’t. The people that had that little girl locked up in that lab are still out there. By the sounds of things, the people that took my husband are still out there, too.”

“You’re asking me for a job?” Fury asks incredulously.

“I’m telling you we’re working the case. It’s a courtesy. I’ll sleep better at night knowing they’re not a threat anymore. And since you guys aren’t exactly making any progress catching them, I think I’ll try my hand at it.”

Fury stares at him before looking to Bucky who shrugs in response. “Don’t look at me. You try arguing with him.”

“Looking for support here, babe,” Sam says.

“How do you think you got me to marry you?”

“Not funny.” He looks to Fury. “We have a deal?”

Fury looks to Carter who nods once. “You’ll work with us.” At Sam’s face, he says, “I send civilians out into the field with no armor or guns, they come back dead and suddenly I’m spending my precious weekend filling out paperwork. Carter will be your handler.”

Sam looks to Bucky who sits up. “I want our house back.”

“We didn’t take your home,” Carter says gently.

“I know, but I want it clean. Off the books so no one can find us there. I know you have people that can do that,” he says to Fury.

“Consider it done. Anything else? Would you like my first born son? A kidney?”

Sam sits down beside Bucky, holding his fist out for a fist bump. Biting down a smile, he complies, watching as Sam then looks to Sharon who does the same.

Fury scans the room. “Next item of business: finding out where Hydra got the materials for the lab. If we follow that trail, we’ll find the scientist. Carter doesn’t think the lab coats there were the masterminds behind the operation.”

“They were just following instructions. It was clear they weren’t avoiding my questions, they didn’t know the answers. I think Hydra grabbed whoever they could find, but they couldn’t get any bigger names out to that lab. These people were getting their ideas from somewhere else.” She stood up from her seat, explaining, “There’s other labs. There’s got to be.”

“More children,” Bucky says, drawing Sam’s gaze.

“Not exactly,” Fury says. He taps at his tablet and the screen projects several images. Well, several versions of the same image.

A girl with long dark hair and blue eyes in various stages of her life. She looks strangely familiar.

“There was some success proven with a lab in Sweden. At first, it seemed like another attempt at creating mutants. But the children found in the Modesto lab were all enhanced individuals. Hydra scrapped the project and now it seems they’re focused on this one.”

“And the girl in Vienna?” Sam asks.

Carter looks at him quietly, shaking her head. Sam lowers his gaze. “This girl,” Carter turns to the screen. “She’s out there. They keep trying to recreate her over and over again. We need to find her and destroy the samples.”

“We don’t know how many labs there are,” Hill says.

“No, but if we find the key lab, the scientist leading all of this, we take out their chance to get it right.”

“Clones and Nazis,” Sam says. “Happy anniversary.”


End file.
